Teacher
by glorfinniel
Summary: A series of ficlets about the Winchester brothers as they teach each other different things through their life. Rating for mild insults


**Author's note: **Here's my second piece for me to post! It's rather different to Under Ice (read as VERY!), as it's my attempt at something light and humorous. This fic will actually consist of several different parts, all dealing with a different scenario during Sam and Dean's life but all based around the idea of 'teaching'. So here's the first part – enjoy!

Oh, and don't worry – no spoilers in this fic whatsoever!

(Disclaimer in bio page)

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**TEACHER**

**Part One – Dance Lessons**

"Ok Dean, put your hand on my waist."

"_What?_"

"Do you wanna get this right or not?"

"Alright, alright…but you're being the girl."

"I _am_ the girl."

"You said it."

"No laughing."

"Yes, Sir."

"And don't mock me."

Anyone passing the front window of room 57 of _Mac's Motel_ that afternoon would have had the honour of witnessing something no one had ever seen before. Dean Winchester, 27 going on 15, was awkwardly slow dancing with his younger brother. The man had, after much embarrassment and damage to his pride, asked Sam to aid him in learning how the hell one is expected to dance at a party. And not just any party, but a highly prestigious and popular dinner party at that.

Whilst on their most recent job Dean had, much to the amusement of his brother, become interested in, no, make that infatuated with, a beautiful brunette who went by the name of Susan.

There was only one problem. Dean didn't know the first thing about dancing. Hell, Dean didn't know the first thing about _etiquette_. Sam had the tricky job of making his brother into a gentleman, teaching him how to dance with a woman and how to not scare her away before the night is over. With newfound hormones already raging, Dean had somehow miraculously bagged a date with the girl, after much hounding and charming, but now that it came down to the Big Night, as Sam had labelled it, Dean realised that actually he didn't have a clue about how to act with the woman.

"Do you see what I'm doing here?"

"Yeah, it kinda feels like you're coming onto me, Sammy."

"Ha. Ha. As _hilarious_ as you are being, just shut up, ok?"

"Ooh, Sammy's got PMS."

"_Sam_ is saving your ass, you get me?"

"Point taken."

In the background a Metallica track was playing, the volume turned down low. The notes emanated out of an old tape player that Sam had somehow managed to get his hands on. Dean may have the charm of the two, but it seemed that Sam could get anything he wanted with those damn dimples.

Both Dean and Sam tried to ignore just how ridiculous it was to slow dance to Metallica (as if dancing with each other wasn't bad enough). The track Sam had selected, in his defence, was the slowest, calmest one he could find, but the situation was still made all the more bizarre when a deep gravely voice was being danced to as opposed to the elegant classical pieces that Dean would have the pleasure of listening to later on that evening.

Dean _really_ needed to update his tape collection.

"So college boy, what exactly am I dancing here?"

"It's a very basic routine of steps, something that you should be able to fit to any type of music."

"And who was the moron to teach you this in the first place?"

Sam stopped dancing abruptly, removing his hands from Dean's shoulders.

"Jess taught me."

"Oh. Oh God, sorry man."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. Sam, I'm sorry."

"I said it's ok. Really."

"I shouldn't have said that – have I made this awkward?"

"No more so than things already are. Your hands are still on my waist, just by the way."

With lightning speed Dean removed his hands and, looking down at his feet, tried and failed at not feeling embarrassed.

"It really is ok, Dean. We are allowed to talk about her every now and then."

"I know…it's just…well, I dunno Sammy, I just saw the look on your face when you mentioned her a moment ago."

Sam shrugged. "So I miss her. It doesn't mean that I can't handle talking about her though, Dean. Now where were we?"

"Those dance steps?"

"Right, ok. Hands on waist again."

And so they continued. Minutes passed and neither spoke until:

"Sorry I acted that way, Dean."

"What way?"

"Like I was going to flip out or something. I didn't mean to react like that when I mentioned Jess. I guess this is just bringing back some memories that I thought I'd forgotten about completely."

"It's ok, Sam. I understand."

And it was left at that. Sam smiled slightly to himself, making a point of not looking at Dean's face because he was certain that should he do so, he'd find Dean's brow knotted in concentration and his eyes narrowed with embarrassment. Looking at him would just make Sam laugh and then where would they be?

"What's so funny?" Ok, so maybe he shouldn't have thought about it either.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Good. You better not be laughing at me. I swear, if this gets out at all I am gonna kick your ass. What happens in the room, stays in the room, got it?"

"Oh, I get it alright."

"I mean it, Sam. This is so _humiliating_."

"Hey, you think I'm actually _enjoying _this little session? Believe me, no one _at all_ will be hearing about this."

"They'd better not."

The song ended and suddenly a less than peaceful song started up. As heavy drum beats and angry guitars replaced the mournful sound of the song before, Sam and Dean pointedly stepped out of the dance position and away from each other.

"I think that's all you need to know."

"Yeah, I think so to."

"You'd better get ready. You've only got an hour to go before you need to pick her up."

"Yeah…"

But neither of them made any move. Sam settled himself on the edge of his bed and Dean scratched nervously at the back of his neck. The angry song played on.

It was starting to get dark outside now and the overhead motel sign, with its flickering bulbs, was casting a sickly red light onto the equally sickly carpet. The two of them were so quiet that even the faint buzzing of the sign could be heard.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Thanks. For showing me that."

"No problem."

"And I'm sorry for calling your girlfriend a moron."

The apology had the desired effect, as Sam started to laugh out loud and the mood in the room was lifted once again.

"It'd better hit the shower then, Sammy."

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here, trying to get the scarring images of what we've just done out of my head."

"You and me both. I've never felt so dirty."

"Ok, we both know that's a lie."

"Whatever, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Whore."

And as Dean closed the door to the bathroom behind him, and Sam was left in the room with the sounds of Metallica and rushing water, he knew with much satisfaction that things were back to normal. Things between him and his brother were just as they had always been.

END – of part one.

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**Author's note:** well there you go, how was that? Please review if you have the time – I'd love to know what you think :)

Also, thank you ever so much to everyone who left reviews for my other fic, Under Ice. They really boosted my confidence and I am so pleased that you all liked it. Thank you for all leaving such kind words!


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